


Hat Trick

by wishforwishes



Category: Harry Styles (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sports, Bad Sex, Bottom Harry, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, F/M, Face-Fucking, Fantasizing, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pillow Talk, Prostate Orgasm, Semi-Public Sex, Trans Female Harry Styles, but like mid-sex, don't let this tag scare you away they work through it fast
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:40:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29320302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wishforwishes/pseuds/wishforwishes
Summary: "Well, if you haven't done it before, I don't want to hurt you," Xander says, which in retrospect is a capital D Dumbass thing to say. He can practically see a fire start raging behind Harry's eyes.***Xander and Harry talking during sex: a multi-reality love story.(Each chapter is its own standalone AU)
Relationships: Xander Ritz/Harry Styles
Comments: 1
Kudos: 14





	1. Tone Shift

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! In case you missed the note in the summary, just a heads-up that this chaptered 'fic' is actually three stories; they just all happen to be Xarry and quite short, so I figured I'd clump them together here. First up: Harry ruins the mood. 
> 
> (obligatory disclaimer: this is fiction and not meant to imply anything about the actual personal lives of any people featured.)

Xander promised himself he wasn’t going to bring it up. He lasted the whole ride back to the hotel not thinking about it — and even though the hotel was only a couple of miles from the stadium, it took them almost an hour to reach it because of all the potential fans and ‘journalists’ Harry needed to dodge. 

While the two of them were clandestinely ushered through a back entrance and onto a private elevator, he kept his mouth firmly shut. When they were finally safely in their suite and Harry pulled him into the bedroom eagerly, Xander was sure that he'd put the whole conversation out of his mind.

He’d forgotten to account for Harry’s razor-sharp intuition. Or his habit of trying to hold full conversations during sex. 

“What were you and Louis talking about earlier?” Harry asked, right when he’d finished sliding a condom onto Xander’s dick. 

“Um,” was the only response Xander could come up with for a few seconds, which was honestly impressively eloquent, considering Harry was now clambering onto his lap and sinking down on him. 

“You really want to talk about another guy right now?” He managed.

“Don’t deflect,” Harry chided, like he was mingling at a luncheon or something, instead of angling a cock into his body. “You know that’s not why I’m asking.” 

Xander did know, actually. He would prefer to be thinking about the warm weight of Harry in his lap, but if Harry picked now to talk about this, he must have felt like Xander would have tried to dodge the subject otherwise. It made him feel strangely guilty — in a detached sort of way, because his dick was harder than ever and his hips were still thrusting up whenever Harry ground down onto him.

He knew Harry felt like there was a gulf growing between him and the rest of the band: exacerbated by Zayn leaving a few months ago, but first ripped open by Harry suggesting the hiatus last year. It made sense that Harry would want to know what Xander and Louis could have to talk about because Harry and Louis hadn’t been talking — not when they weren’t actively on the clock. 

“He just asked a couple of questions about lacrosse. It was pretty casual,” Xander said, trying for casual as well. 

Harry narrowed his eyes and started slowing his pace.

“That’s all, is it?” 

At this point, he was just moving in lazy circles back and forth in Xander’s lap, instead of bouncing up and down like he’d been doing a few minutes ago. It was an effective interrogation technique, admittedly. 

“It did kind of seem like he only started the conversation so he could work in a way to call me Yoko Ono,” Xander admitted. 

“Did he? Huh. I’m impressed. He hasn’t seemed up for being that type of catty in a while.” 

“Is this something he’s done before?”

“Oh, it’s a whole tradition. Whenever Louis gets in a shitty mood, he starts calling whoever I’m dating ‘Yoko’. Usually just as a snide comment to me or the lads, though, instead of to their face. Sorry, babe.” Harry said, patting him on the shoulder and picking the pace back up with no warning. 

Xander let out a groan of mingled frustration and arousal.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” he said through gritted teeth. “But I am still waiting on the explanation part, to be honest.”

Harry huffed a sigh and then lifted himself off Xander entirely. He rolled over onto his back to stare at the ceiling; Xander slid down the bed to join him, and they just laid there for a minute, their dicks both still hard and jutting upwards. It would almost be comical, if not for how small Harry’s voice sounded when he finally answered. 

“Everyone’s been saying for years that I’m going to go solo and break up the band. We used to have all these inside jokes to take the piss about it but…it hasn’t been as funny the last few months.” 

It wasn’t that difficult to put the pieces together; Xander wasn’t a Beatles auteur like Harry, but he knew the role historically assigned to Yoko was ‘catalyst for John Lennon breaking the bros before hos rule’. Clearly Harry's band (or at least Louis) thought that Xander posed a similar threat, and Zayn leaving had made them even more defensive about it. But he didn’t understand why they thought he was a threat. 

He’d never so much as opened his mouth to complain about the long distance or the crazy schedule (crazy everything) that came with dating a pop star, or having to hide it because they were both guys. He’d genuinely never even thought along those lines, because Harry was worth any trouble, and because in any case he didn’t want to imply that his partner had to choose between him and their career. He wasn’t Yoko Ono, but he wasn’t that douche Ross from Friends either (another point of reference Harry was more studied in than him). 

He’d even joined Harry on tour for most of the summer, just to be as accommodating as possible! He’d thought he’d been as supportive a boyfriend as he could be, or at least one that wasn’t trying to sow discord like some kind of femme fatale. Xander opened his mouth to say as much, but Harry got there first. 

“I do think about leaving, sometimes.” 

Xander turned his head so fast that he could feel a neck muscle jam. If the sudden discomfort hadn’t worked to soften his dick, the bare pain on Harry’s face would have done it. 

“It’s weird, because so much has been fucked up lately, but I never think about it when things are going wrong, or when everyone’s being extra bitter about Zayn leaving. It’s always when things are good. Like when I was on stage tonight, and making all those people in the audience happy, all I could think about was how much they’d hate me if I left too. Isn't that mad?” Harry laughed as he said it, but it was a desperately unhappy sound. 

In lieu of answering, Xander rolled onto his side and scooped Harry back against him. 

“I'm sorry,” Harry said, sniffling a little. “I didn't mean to kill the mood.”

“You don't have to be sorry. I want you to talk to me about stuff like this,” Xander tried, which was hopefully solid enough to make up for the self-centered nature of the next thing he said. 

“You wanting to leave... it isn’t about me, right?”

They'd only been dating for half a year, and they'd never discussed how serious they were or whether they wanted to announce their relationship at some point in the future. If all that happened in line with Harry leaving the band...Xander didn't think he was ready to be the 21st century Yoko Ono. 

“No,” Harry confirmed. “I mean, I’ve been thinking about it because I want to be with you more openly, but that isn’t about you, really.”

“It's about wanting to be true to who you are,” Xander finished. 

Harry turned around in Xander's arms. He had a small smile on his face now, but he still looked so sad. 

“Exactly. But if I leave, after Zayn already took off and shifted us into a four-piece… I think it would be the end of the band. And then instead of getting to be my own artist, I’d forever be tied to One Direction in everyone’s head. I'd always be responsible for breaking up the band. They would always get to say it was my fault.”

Xander couldn't help it — he had to let out a laugh at that, although he tried to hastily hide it by burying his face in Harry's shoulder. 

“I understand that's a shallow thing to be worried about,” Harry said, his tone icy enough that it was crystal clear how not understanding he thought Xander was being.

“No, sorry, it's just —” Xander lifted his head back up to look at Harry, taking in his pinched expression and worried-raw lips. 

“I don’t think you have to lose any sleep over that. Louis already made it clear that I'll get the blame if that happens.” 

And somehow, that didn’t bother him anymore, even though he’d been obsessing over it all evening. It was suddenly easy: if him being blamed meant Harry wasn’t, Xander would be a scapegoat with a smile on his face. He’d be happy to go down in history as the next Yoko Ono, as long as his boyfriend got to be remembered as the first Harry Styles. 


	2. Ceding the Field

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Tenacious (Harry and a) D 
> 
> warning for this chapter: there's some references to vomit at one point

Xander generally thinks of himself as a patient guy. Learning to ‘hurry up and wait’ is a skill he honed during his time as a lacrosse player. When he was stressing over being put on the bench during a game, he'd repeat a mantra in his head for as long as it took to calm down.  _ The rest of the team knew what they were doing; the coach knew what  _ he _ was doing and when would be the best time to put Xander in;  _ and _ Xander was exactly where he needed to be at that moment in the game. _

It's the closest he's ever come to meditation. He leaves the breathing exercises and invocations to people like Harry who actually know what they're doing. No amount of meditation has helped make  _ Harry _ patient, though. 

His impatience isn't something that's immediately evident, because he's also somehow a very laid-back person at the same time. But Xander knows that when Harry thinks he can accomplish something, and then isn't immediately able to do so, it frustrates him to no end. He becomes single-minded in his focus and determination to succeed.

That focus is an asset a lot of the time — it's probably why Harry's done so well in a world as competitive as the music industry — but Xander’s sure it gets the better of him at times. He hasn’t seen that firsthand yet, though. 

They've been dating for a few months now, and he feels on top of the world. No one's allowed to know, obviously, but  _ he _ knows that he gets to have Harry Styles on his knees (or his hands and knees) whenever he wants. 

This turns out to be as often as humanly possible. 

They're both insatiable; Xander thinks it's just an effect of the honeymoon period at first, but eventually he realizes Harry is just always hungry for cock — it’s like something out of a frat boy's wet dream. And, well. Xander was part of a fraternity when he was at U of Maryland, so he can't help but be affected by that kind of energy. 

He likes to think it hasn't made him less considerate in bed, but he does find himself wanting things that he'd never have asked his past girlfriends, just because he knows Harry will say yes. He tries not to admit to any of it, but sometimes he can't help blurting it out. 

On one occasion, Harry's managed to sneak him up to his hotel room for a mind-altering blowjob, and Xander actually pulls his dick out of Harry’s mouth to ask him, "Have you ever tried deep-throating someone before?" 

Harry blinks up at him slowly, like he didn't hear the question. He tends to get loopy when he's giving head, like he enjoys it so much it sends him to some kind of happy place. Just when Xander's getting ready to repeat the question, Harry responds. 

"I'm sure I could, but it always seemed reckless to try," he says. "Wouldn't want to lose my voice before a concert."

"Makes sense. Forget I said anything," Xander says quickly, willing himself not to sound disappointed in any way. Harry already gives the best head Xander's ever had; some trick that probably only works in porn isn't necessary. 

Of course, despite aiming for a neutral tone of voice, Harry still gives him a sour look. 

"I didn't say  _ no _ ," he says, pouting. 

"Well, if you haven't done it before, I don't want to hurt you," Xander counters, which in retrospect is a capital D Dumbass thing to say. He can practically see a fire start raging behind Harry's eyes. 

"I can do it," he insists, and then proceeds to take Xander's dick — which embarrassingly has not gone soft at all during this conversation — back into his mouth, trying to swallow it all in one go. 

A few minutes later, Xander's in the bathroom, washing vomit off his balls while Harry apologizes profusely on the other side of the door, sounding miserable. 

Once he's recovered his dignity, though, Harry refuses to let it go. 

Whenever they manage to find some alone time, it's the only thing Harry wants to do. Unfortunately, he doesn't get better at it, although at least he doesn't throw up again. But he still can't get the last few inches of Xander's cock in his mouth, no matter how hard he works at it; he just gags and cries until Xander insists Harry stop. 

Harry likewise insists every time that he 'almost had it' in a cracked and barely-there voice. Xander's starting to get worried someone's going to send an assassin after him for ruining Harry's vocal cords. He's also worried he's never going to get to come again. Harry is always too frustrated afterwards to have sex, and Xander always feels too guilty to jerk off when Harry's gone to bed still worked up. 

"You know, I bet I'm thinking about it too much," Harry says decisively, two weeks into his self-proclaimed mission. 

Xander makes a vague sound of affirmation, but to be honest he's not really listening. The sudden onset of blue balls after months of getting laid almost every day has sapped his attention span. 

"I'm pretty sure I can do it if you just force me to do it," Harry continues, and okay, Xander heard  _ that _ with no problem. 

He splutters gibberish for a minute like a cartoon character just dropped an anvil on his head. The first comprehensible sentence he manages to get out is: "God, Harry, I hope you know I'd never force you to do anything."

Harry just rolls his eyes. 

"That's not what I mean. I think it’s clear by now that I really  _ do _ want your cock all the way down my throat," he points out. 

"Well, I don't want to literally choke you with it, Jesus," Xander says, feeling a little guilty as he says it. He doesn't want to admit it, but seeing Harry struggling recently — his nose and eyes streaming, the little whimpers and choked-off noises he makes around Xander's dick — has been more arousing than he'd anticipated. 

It's not like he's getting off on Harry being uncomfortable or hurt. He'd never want that. Except apparently he does want that, enough to consider agreeing to Harry’s plan, even if it’s irresponsible. Harry must be able to see through his bullshit, because he doesn’t say anything else, just goes back to rifling through his duffle bag. 

He’s packing for tomorrow’s flight. It’s a flight that Xander’s going to be on too, because he’s using up all of his vacation days for the year to follow his boyfriend — the most famous member of the world’s most famous boyband — on tour. His life is already a too-good-to-be-real fever dream, so maybe Xander should just stop questioning things. 

He walks over to Harry and starts pulling him toward the couch. 

"So if we do this,” Xander says once he's got Harry situated on his lap, "I want you to pinch me as hard as you can on my leg if you need to breathe or want me to stop for any reason."

Harry nods enthusiastically and tries to slide to the floor straight away. Xander grabs him around the waist to stop him.

"I want to give it a test run first," he says when Harry gives him a reproachful look. Without explaining further, he grabs Harry's chin firmly with one hand, forcing his mouth open, and then sticks the index and middle fingers of his other hand as far back into Harry's mouth as he can get. 

Xander's half-expecting to get sprayed with vomit again. Instead, Harry's eyes go wide and then slowly roll back. He does gag a little, but then he just starts drooling, letting Xander thrust his fingers in and out of his mouth without trying to suck at them. 

"Good," Xander says, taking his fingers out of Harry's mouth and wiping them on the couch. 

"Like that, okay? Don't try to suck my cock or move your mouth up and down. Just stay still. Unless you want me to stop," he tacks on hastily, which gets another exasperated look. 

"I've got it," Harry says, trying to get on his knees again. This time Xander lets him. 

Then, once he's situated, he sits back on his heels, opens his mouth, and goes still. Almost like he's meditating, Xander thinks to himself. With shaking hands, he unbuttons his jeans and pulls his already achingly hard dick out. He almost stops there, so used to Harry jumping on his dick mouth-first as soon as it's visible. But he's still waiting patiently, mouth stretched wide open. 

Xander slowly reaches out, part of him having a hard time believing this is happening, and winds his fingers through Harry's hair. It would probably be more polite to slowly slide in a little bit at a time, but it seems like thrusting his fingers without warning helped with whatever mental block Harry thinks he's having. 

So he just unceremoniously pulls Harry onto his dick in one smooth movement, not stopping until Harry's nose is pressed up against Xander's pubic hair. 

Harry lets out a muffled noise of surprise. Xander doesn't give him time to adjust or to let himself feel the hot press of Harry's throat around the head of his dick, because otherwise he'll come before this goes anywhere. Instead, he clasps the back of Harry's head and starts shallowly thrusting. Harry's drooling again within seconds, and before long there's a messy frothing of spit at the base of Xander's dick and the bottom half of Harry's face. 

It's surreal how easily Harry just takes it, when he was having so much trouble before. Xander has a suspicion as to why, and he's voicing his thoughts before he can stop himself. 

"Jesus, you really were made for this, huh," he says, pulling Harry almost entirely off his dick and then thrusting back in as harshly as he can. “It’s easier for you to just give up control and let someone fucking use you.” 

Harry starts getting  _ loud _ after that, whining and moaning as much as he can with his mouth full. He’s still keeping his head still and letting himself be maneuvered, but Xander notices him shifting on his knees a little. A second later, Xander sees him press the heel of his hand against the crotch of his jeans. 

“You’re gonna come, aren’t you,” Xander pants, grinding his hips against Harry’s face now, not pulling out at all. He feels Harry’s throat spasming around his cock as what little air he was getting is suddenly cut off.

“You are,” he says, reveling in it. “You’re gonna come in your pants, just from having a dick down your throat. God, you’re so good.” 

Xander doesn’t know if it actually  _ is _ his dick, or his words, or the fact that Harry can’t breathe properly anymore. But a second later, Harry starts jerking his hips up erratically, curling his hand around the shape of his still-covered dick. Xander follows him over the edge quickly, fucking into his mouth a few more times before coming so deeply down his throat that he probably can’t even taste it. 

It feels like Xander’s seconds away from blacking out, but Harry is probably literally on the verge of the same, so he backs away quickly, unthreading his fingers from Harry’s hair and giving him a little space. Harry starts coughing immediately. Xander doesn’t panic about it until half a minute has gone by and it hasn’t died down. Then he goes into useless hovering mode: asking if Harry needs water, saying he’s sorry, even physically wringing his hands like he’s in the world’s most X-rated sitcom. Harry just waves him off.

When Harry stops coughing long enough to speak, his voice is thready and thin but thankfully not completely gone. 

“I told you I could do it,” he says. 

Xander pauses, and then drops his head into his hands. Single-minded Styles strikes again.


	3. Team Sport

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are with the final story: Xander and Harry celebrate after a game.
> 
> Warning: I know absolutely nothing about lacrosse except for what I watched on Teen Wolf half a decade ago. Enjoy!

The Toronto Rocks weren't the only professional lacrosse team with a cheerleading squad to call their own. But they  _ were _ , as far as Xander knew, the only one with a head cheerleader who was openly trans.

If the team and the squad weren't such a co-dependent, mutually overprotective unit, that bit of trivia might have led to uncomfortable scrutiny and local press that Xander knew Harry didn't want. Luckily, the combined brawn of his fellow players and the even more powerful bitchiness of Harry's fellow cheerleaders kept Xander's girlfriend protected from outside forces, and she was able to lead her cheer squad during practices and games without being harrassed.

Today was no exception, and she and her girls had cheered the Rocks to victory with zero problems. They'd yet to lose any home games this season, thank fuck, but Xander wasn't going to get cocky because of a hot streak. He needed to stay level-headed, keep his confidence on a simmer, and prepare for the quarter-finals.

Well.  _ Some _ things he allowed himself to be cock-sure about. Like when the rest of the team suggested a night of celebratory drinking, and he begged off, saying he wanted to stay behind in the lockers and sort through his equipment: as he made his excuses, he was one hundred percent certain Harry was making her own.

That confidence was rewarded quickly; Xander only had to halfheartedly organize his dirty gym bag for a few minutes before the rest of the team cleared out, and a few minutes after that, Harry strolled in. Still wearing her barely-there uniform, god fucking bless.

She wrinkled her nose as soon as she crossed the threshold.

"You know, I do  _ not  _ miss having to change in boy's locker rooms," she announced, playing up a shudder and sitting down on the nearest metal bench gingerly, like it was a biohazardous surface.

"Bet you miss the view, though," Xander said, overacting a leer in turn, like the two of them had stepped into a budget porno (which, technically, they had).

Harry rolled her eyes.

"View? I only see a single skinny white boy," she returned, catty as anything, and Xander knew she didn't mean it — she was just setting up his next line for him, and he was nothing if not a dutiful boyfriend.

"Well, it's too bad you didn't come by a little earlier. The whole team was changing out of their uniforms."

Xander gestured to his own half-undressed state in example, just his sweaty breeches and cleats left to peel off, and Harry's eyes widened, the picture of innocence.

"That would have been awkward, though, right?" As she spoke, she sidled her way off her bench and onto his, crawling into his lap easy as anything. 

"I mean, how do you think they would have reacted if one of their teammate's girlfriends just walked in on them, all of a sudden?"

Xander ran his hands up under her skirt, hooking his fingers in the hemline of her matching, regulation-appropriate panties. He hummed, pretending he had to think up an answer to her 'questions'.

"They probably would have looked at me before saying or doing anything. Best way to figure out what their reaction should be," he said finally, watching Harry's eyes flutter closed as his fingers worked their way fully underneath her sweat-soaked underwear, the meat of one hand pressing against the flat of her tucked-up dick.

"And what — what would you have said? Or done? When you saw me walk in?"

"I would have told them they were about to get a reward for playing such a good game," Xander said, and felt her hips jerk into his hand before he'd even finished the sentence.

Obviously, he wouldn't have said anything of the kind, but he knew how hot this kind of talk got her, and he was hot for anything that got Harry off like this, humping into his hand with abandon and whining like he was already fucking her.

"I'd go first, of course, and make them watch, wait for their turn to get at my sloppy seconds," he continued, trying to keep his voice light and casual like he was discussing the weather.

Harry wasn't even pretending to be cavalier anymore. She grabbed Xander's hand and yanked it away from her dick; he didn't get more than halfway through a questioning look before she was pushing his hand further between her legs and letting out a wrecked, "Keep talking."

"After I was done, it'd be my turn to watch while they passed you around. Do you think they'd form a nice and orderly line? or would they all fight to grab a piece of you at once?"

Xander's fingers finally made their way back far enough to skate over Harry's hole, and he felt the familiar greedy clutch of it, trying to suck in the tips of his fingers.

"Bet you could get two of their cocks in your pussy at once," Xander said, shoving two fingers inside her as he did, up to the second knuckle.

She let out a punched-out breath of air like he'd stabbed her, but it was for effect; she was still slick and open inside from when he'd fucked her that morning. So he just pressed a kiss to her forehead and kept going.

"That wouldn't be enough, though, would it? You'd need another down your throat at the same time, so taking cock could be your whole world for a moment."

"Would you go again after they'd finished? Fuck me after I'd been filled to the brim over and over?"

See, this is why he hadn't been worried about the rough fingering. Harry always found her footing quickly and started mouthing off again.

Xander shifted on the bench, uncomfortable aware of how pinched his erection was getting, trapped as it was in his shorts. At least he could actually get hard right now, though. Harry's dick was still neatly tucked and taped away, and he knew she would slap him if he tried to jerk her off right now. So he started pressing hard on her prostate as soon as he found it, hoping he could at least make her come that way.

She squirmed in his lap like a madwoman, slamming down on his fingers. With the balance of power restored, he was able to pick his line of questioning back up.

"You want that, huh? So much for safe sex," he said, even managing a passably chiding tone. "Shouldn't you be a smart girl and force them to glove up? Otherwise you'll end up with so many loads in you, it'll be impossible to figure out who knocked you up."

Activating Harry's pregnancy kink was the ace up Xander's sleeve, guaranteed to send her over the edge — or at least he expected it to be, but then:

"I'd let them do whatever they wanted to me," she gasped out, "as long as they got your permission first."

And Xander could claim until he was blue in the face that this whole scene had been Harry's idea, but he still seized up at her words — at the idea that she'd give control over to him like that — and came in his shorts like a teenager. His dick was still weakly jerking when he felt Harry clench around his fingers and then pitch forward into his chest.

After a second, she reached down to grab at his dick, then let out a little noise of disappointment when she realized he'd already come. If they hadn't been dating so long, Xander might have been embarrassed, but as it was he just rolled his eyes as Harry pouted.

"Okay, you definitely need to find some way to make this up to me."

"Make it up to you?"

"Well, cheesy pornos aside, I was kind of hoping to at least get  _ your _ come in me," she said.

Xander laughed weakly, and pulled her closer by the hand that was still halfway lodged in her body. She squeaked as she was dragged forward.

Chests now flush together, Xander put his mouth against her ear.

"How about this? I'll make sure to fuck you raw right before your cheer practice next week. Then your teammates can watch my jizz drip out of you while you go through your routines, and they can all be inspired by what a big slut you are."

It was a rhetorical question, like all the ones he'd asked earlier. With Harry, the answer was always yes. 

**Author's Note:**

> By the way, to everyone wondering about my many WIPs...I haven't forgotten them, I promise. I plan to get at least a couple of them finished over the next few months. Fingers crossed! This 'fic' at least is finished, so I'll be posting the other two chapters tomorrow.


End file.
